


no matter the weather, we're together

by lesbianshinobu



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Established Relationship, Multi, Other, Pre-Relationship, Reader-Insert, Ten Years Later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21751807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianshinobu/pseuds/lesbianshinobu
Summary: Whether it's turbulent storms or thunderous lightning, you know your love will survive it.A collection of stories for characters of Katekyo Hitman Reborn! Requests taken here or onTumblr.
Relationships: Dino Cavallone/Reader, Gokudera Hayato/Reader, Superbi Squalo/Reader, Xanxus (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!)/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 79





	1. caught in the rain | dino

**Author's Note:**

> it's been ages since i've written for khr, and i'm so glad to be returning to this series! it's like the first manga i read as well as the first i finished.
> 
> i hope there are enough khr fans out there who'll enjoy what i write, and keep requesting for more! :)

The date had started off so well. Dino had picked you up in his car, the two of you snuggling up in the backseat as Romario drove you to a high-end restaurant. You dined on expensive, delicious food, chatting in between bites. As the evening came to a close, you asked Dino if you could take a short walk while Romario brought the car around.

As you strolled, arm in arm, a droplet of water hit your nose. Another caught Dino’s chin. Then a torrent of rain ambushed you. You shrieked, and Dino swore, and the two of you ran for cover.

Which, naturally, is when Dino tripped over his own feet and fell flat on his face. With Romario gone, his coordination had left him too.

Now you stood under an awning, soaking wet, a tissue shoved up Dino’s nostril to halt the flow of blood. You’re stunned by how the romantic evening had taken such an abrupt turn.

“You’re cold.” Dino’s voice draws your attention. You look over to see him staring at you, concerned.

“Ah, yeah,” you say, as if you just noticed the goosebumps. Dino had given you his jacket at the start of the walk, draping it over your shoulders, but it’s soaked through from the rain.

He reaches out and rubs his palms along your arms. His skin is damp and chilly from the rain. You shiver involuntarily. He pauses before pulling his hands back, sheepish. “Sorry. Guess I’m just making it worse.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry,” you begin, but he only heaves a sigh, his brows pinching. You take in his slumped form. “…Dino? What is it?”

He doesn’t speak for a moment. “These past few weeks, we haven’t spent much time together. I know you understand why I’m so busy—you don’t know how thankful I am for that—but this evening was supposed to make up for it. Now it’s all gone south.”

You can’t help smile at the words. You cup his cheek, gently turning his head so you can meet his eyes. “Tonight has been lovely,” you tell him. “And it still is, even now.”

Dino blinks, surprised. Then his features soften. His hand comes up to cover yours. “Yeah?”

You nod firmly. “Of course. Because I’m getting to spend this moment with you.”

A smile lifts the corners of his lips, before it blossoms into a grin. He places his free hand on your back as he steps closer, and you lean in just as he moves to kiss you.

It’s a picture-perfect kiss, fit for the movie screens…for all of one second. You’re alarmed when something tickles the top of your lip, and you have to pull away to laugh when you realize it’s the tissue that’s _still_ in Dino’s nostril. It’s been there this entire time, actually, but you hadn’t paid any attention to it until now.

Dino tilts his head. “What? What happened?” You’re too busy laughing to answer. “Come on, I thought we were having a _moment_ here!”

You’re still giggling when Romario returns with the car, while Dino pouts. Inwardly, though, he’s pleased that the evening went so well, all things considered.


	2. service with a smile | xanxus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by anon.
> 
> ok so originally i decided not to write for xanxus, because he’s Like That. but i’ve kinda changed my mind, in that i’ll write for _tyl!_ xanxus. by then he’s mellowed out more and isn’t as murderous / abusive, at least not to those he’s close to yikes.

The first time he stepped into your bakery, you’d been a little intimidated. It wasn’t the visible scarring that made you hesitant to approach him; it was his aura, coupled by that ever-present scowl. It never left his face the entire time he was there.

There was no line, so he stalked to the counter and gave his order, his words brusque. Just a black coffee. When you brought it to his table, he took a sip, not saying a word. He left fifty euros as a tip. You decided then that he couldn’t be so bad.

Then he showed up the next week with the same order. Now he keeps dropping by.

He’s always wearing a suit, the collar undone and tie loose, with a dark jacket draped over his shoulders. He picks the same seat, unless it’s occupied, which results in much grumbling and cursing from the man. He lounges on the chair as if it’s a throne fit for a king. He stays until he’s drained every last drop of coffee.

He always leaves fifty euros as a tip.

You’re intrigued, and kind of annoyed. This is a _bakery_. You make a decent cup of coffee, sure, but you’re a baker first. You’re miffed that he doesn’t want to try one of your creations. It’s what you’re known for around these parts!

Maybe it’s that indignation that prompts you to do it. The next time he comes in and orders a black coffee, you bring it to him. Then you set a plate of scones beside the cup.

He stares at the plate. His scowl deepens (how that’s even possible, you’re not sure; it’s deep enough as it is). He looks at you as if in disbelief at your stupidity. “I didn’t order this.”

“It’s on the house!” you chirp. You’re a little frightened, but thankfully it doesn’t come through in your voice. You walk back to the counter, feeling his heavy gaze on you. You don’t turn around to check.

The lunch rush trickles in once you’re behind the counter, so you’re not able to sneak a peek at his table. Once the rush has died down and you have time to breathe, he’s gone.

You’re disappointed. Then the worry kicks in.

What if he was pissed off by your forwardness? What if he’s deathly allergic to eggs, or gluten? What if he never shows up at your bakery again? You’re not sure why, but you’re dismayed at the thought.

You walk over to his table to pick up the dishes, only to stop in your tracks. You stare.

This time, he left a hundred euros.

* * *

He shows up next week, like clockwork. He orders a black coffee, nothing else. As he walks away upon paying, you watch him. You thought he liked the scones, but he didn’t order any. What was the hundred for, then? Pouting, you make his coffee and bring it to him.

You set it on his table, expecting to be ignored as usual. But he doesn’t pick up the coffee. Instead, he looks up at you, his gaze narrowed and intense.

“Is…Is the coffee okay?” you ask, when he still hasn’t moved.

He scoffs, glancing away. He takes a sip of the coffee, but he still looks disgruntled. You walk to the counter, stupefied. What’s his problem? Maybe he’s just in a bad (er, worse?) mood today?

You bring another customer their order, but your mind is still caught on the man and his reaction. You think back to what happened. He ordered, you brought his coffee, and he stared at it, before he turned that gaze on you. Wait. No, actually. He had stared at the _table_ , not the cup. As if he’d been expecting something else…

You straighten up. Quickly, you pick up a clean plate. You move towards the scones, before you hesitate. You grab a piece of biscotti instead. You made a particularly good batch today.

You stride toward his table, hoping you’re not too late. Thankfully, you aren’t. He still has half his coffee left.

You set the plate down, meeting his lazy gaze with a small grin. “On the house, _signore_ ,” you say breezily, then strut off without a backward glance.

When you’re at the counter, you whip around. You watch as he picks up the biscotti, looks at it, then carefully dips it in his coffee. He brings it to his mouth and takes a bite. You peer intently at his features, trying to figure out if he likes it.

But his scowl doesn’t fade. His face doesn’t so much as _twitch_.

You don’t realize you’ve made a noise of displeasure until the man’s eyes flash over to you. He cocks a brow. You nearly duck under the counter, mortified. Instead you just turn away, as if casually looking around. You’re too flustered to sneak another peek.

When he moves to leave, you keep your gaze lowered and pretend to be busy. He doesn’t stop, or talk to you, but you hear a quiet scoff. It sounds almost _amused_. Your cheeks burn. Still, you don’t look over.

You make a beeline for his table once he’s gone, though. You’re curious.

He left a hundred euros, just like last time.

You grin to yourself, standing in the middle of your tiny bakery. You don’t care if you look like an idiot. _Alright, mystery man. You’re on._

You’re going to gift him your creations every time he comes in, and you’ll keep doing it until you get him to crack a smile. It’s only a matter of time until he does.

You’re a baker, after all. You’re confident in your abilities.


	3. collision course | squalo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by anon.

You watch in horror as a brown stain bleeds into the crisp white shirt. Droplets of the hot beverage drip off the dark jacket. You even see a few of them race down the man’s ( _very_ toned) chest, slipping beneath his waistband.

Your wide eyes take this sight in, before ever so slowly, your head tilts up and they meet the enraged features of Superbi Squalo.

You know all about him, of course. How can you not? You’re in the Varia; part of Levi’s Squad, specifically. (Though you won’t be soon, since you’re not likely to survive this encounter.) Everyone in the Varia knows the Boss’s right-hand man. Which is why your legs shake, knees knocking together, as Squalo takes in a deep, ragged breath.

“VOOOOOOOI!” he shouts at the top of his lungs. Your ears ring at the sound. “WATCH WHERE THE FUCK YOU’RE GOING!” He snarls, baring his teeth. “DO YOU NOT HAVE EYES?”

“I-I do,” you stammer, then realize that the question was rhetorical. “I mean! I apologize! I didn’t see you, because I was turning the corner, and—”

“DOES IT LOOK LIKE I GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOUR EXCUSES? YOU BURNED ME, _AND_ YOU RUINED MY SUIT! I HAVE A SHITTY ASS MEETING TO GO TO! HOW THE HELL DO YOU EXPECT ME TO GO LOOKING LIKE THIS?”

“Maybe…you could change…?”

“THERE’S NO TIME FOR THAT!”

“O-Oh.” What are you supposed to say to that? Your mouth opens and closes uselessly.

Squalo growls, taking a step towards you. You immediately back up, your hand that’s not holding the empty cup raising in surrender. Thankfully, he doesn’t lunge to attack you.

“You’re lucky I’m busy right now,” he says, glaring murderously at you. If looks could kill, you’d already have been eviscerated. “But the next time I see you…YOU’RE _DEAD_ , IDIOT!”

He swivels on his heel, his silver hair flaring around him dramatically—if you hadn’t leaned back, the strands would’ve slapped you across the face. You watch him stomp off, unable to speak or move even after he has turned the corner.

Levi can get his own damn hot chocolate from now on. You won’t be alive long enough for him to boss around, anyway.


	4. let the day just pass us by | hayato

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not a request this time! this is completely self-indulgent of me, i admit it. hopefully you lovely people find some enjoyment from this scenario though! inspired by the starry night puzzle that my sister and i have been working on for like, three days now sfjfkdk
> 
> also, i absolutely hate titles. i really do.

Hayato’s hunched over the table, legs crossed while his bespectacled eyes remain narrowed on the wooden surface. A thick blanket is thrown over his shoulders. You’re burrowed under it as well, leaning against his side. While he’s concentrating hard, though, you’re far more relaxed.

“Hey, Hayato,” you say, to get your boyfriend’s attention. “Check this out.” He glances over, only to see you holding up a single puzzle piece with a grin. “Doesn’t this one kinda look like a goat?”

He scoffs. “Would it kill you to take this seriously? We’re _still_ working on the border.” Shaking his head, he turns back to the puzzle spread across the table.

This prompts you to look at it as well, noticing how meticulously he had sorted the pieces based on colour and brushstrokes. You could hazard a good guess as to which painting it was supposed to be just by looking now. He must have done all this in the past hour. Meanwhile, you’ve been lazily slotting puzzle pieces together, only rarely getting perfect matches.

Ironically, _you_ were the one who suggested working on the puzzle. There wasn’t much for the two of you to do, after all, thanks to the power outage. Hayato had rolled his eyes as you dumped the puzzle pieces on the living room table. While you were working on it, he’d just watched and smoked; with the power off, so were the smoke detectors. Eventually, he grew frustrated by your slow progress and took over, putting his glasses on and rolling his sweater’s sleeves up.

You bring your knees up to your chest, turning back to the puzzle. Your progress is illuminated by lit candles, which you’ve carefully arranged so that neither of you accidentally knock one over. Your cups of coffee are nearly empty, Hayato absentmindedly grabbing his and taking a sip before returning it to the table.

You hook your chin over your boyfriend’s shoulder to watch him work, earning a grumble from him. There’s only a few pieces left before the puzzle’s border is complete; it’s easier to work from the outside in, or so Hayato said. He’s struggling with a particular piece, though, growing increasingly frustrated.

“Just try another one if it’s not working,” you say.

“I _know_ this is supposed to go here,” he argues. “Look at the colours and the brushstrokes—it matches _this_ small section. If the fucking thing would just go in...”

You hum idly, accepting his words, before your gaze sharpens. You reach over and pry the piece from Hayato’s fingers.

“Hey!” he says reflexively, scowling. “Didn’t I just say—” He cuts himself off when you turn the piece sideways. Now it lines up perfectly with a gap between two other pieces, allowing you fit it in without any trouble. “Huh.”

“Would you look at that. A perfect fit.” You smile at your boyfriend, your eyes crinkling at the corners. “Just like us. We make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

He looks over at you, taking in how the flickering candlelight softens your features and makes your eyes shine. He’s quiet, prompting you to raise your brows in silent question. You thought he’d roll his eyes or complain about the cheesy line. Instead, he breaks his gaze from yours. “ _Tch_. I’ve done most of the work so far.”

You keep smiling, shifting so that your cheek presses against the curve of his shoulder. “I never denied that.”

Before Hayato can respond, or the two of you can return to the puzzle, the lights turn on. You jump a little in surprise. You turn towards the balcony door. The snowstorm is still raging outside, but the winds aren’t as fierce as they had been an hour ago. In the apartment building beside yours, a few lights have turned on as well.

“Oh,” you say. “Looks like the power’s back.” You don’t remove the blanket from your shoulders, since it’ll take time for the air conditioning to kick in, but you grab one of the candles. “Wanna pack all this up and watch a movie or something?” As you go to blow out the candle, Hayato stops you by wrapping his hand around yours. You blink at him, confused.

“Can we...Let’s just...” He has trouble meeting your eyes, a flush dusting his cheeks. “We already started the puzzle. Y-You know I have to see things through once I’ve begun them.”

You stare for a moment longer, before the corners of your lips quirk into another smile. Hayato’s enjoying the puzzle, even though he’d complained about it earlier; he just doesn’t want to outright admit to it. “Alright. I don’t mind.” Hayato’s shoulders relax at your agreement. Your smile grows wider. “Just one sec, though...” You stand up and walk cross the room, turning the living room lights off. The candles guide you back to Hayato’s side.

He holds the blanket open for you, and you hurry beneath it. It’s still cold in your apartment. Your eyes shut briefly when your boyfriend’s arm wraps around you, his body heat warming you up. He presses his lips to your brow before turning his attention back to the puzzle, free hand already picking up a puzzle piece. You absentmindedly fiddle with the pieces closest to you. A calm silence falls over the two of you.

Then you break it. “Hayato.”

“Hmm? What?”

“Doesn’t this one look like a guy who’s running? This part’s the head, and these are like stubby little legs...”

“ _Tch!_ ”


	5. best laid plans | dino

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by what-the-fuck-khr on tumblr.
> 
> i love how the other dino piece i wrote also features a date being ruined and dino getting hurt; i just enjoy torturing him, i guess smfkfjds

Sometimes it’s easy to forget who Dino is. He’s a total dork, has a tendency to trip over both his words and his own two feet, and rarely takes himself seriously.

Then he does something that reminds you just how important and influential he is, like fly you on his jet to a private island he owns. All because you complained about how stressed you’ve been feeling lately _once_.

“I thought you could use a vacation,” he’d said when you expressed your shock, grinning widely. “It’ll be just the two of us!”

As suddenly as he’d sprung the idea, it was still sweet of him to plan it for you. So you had smiled back, his excitement infectious and sparking your own...

Which was when Romario cleared his throat and clarified that he and Dino’s subordinates would be accompanying you. Obviously, you tell yourself later. It’d be dangerous for him to travel alone, especially with a civilian like you, who can’t fight.

It can be easy to forget, but Dino is the Cavallone boss. He’s not _just_ your boyfriend. You made your peace with that long ago, because you know he has his obligations, and there are many.

But he never lets you feel like an afterthought, or unimportant. That’s why you love him anyway.

Plus, it’s not too bad, all things considered. At least Dino can keep both his feet under him with his men with the two of you. You enjoy that privilege as you stroll along the beach, hand-in-hand with your boyfriend, inching close to the shoreline and jogging away once the waves reach you. His subordinates are nearby, but they’re enjoying themselves as well and far away enough that you have _some_ semblance of privacy. You’ll take what you can get.

Dino squeezes your hand, prompting your attention. “How is everything so far?” he asks. “Are you feeling a bit better?”

You squeeze back. “I’m feeling _much_ better. Thanks for bringing me here.”

He beams at your response. “Of course! I know when I’m feeling stressed, a change of pace helps me out. I thought it might do the same for you.”

This is more than a change of pace, in your opinion, but you understand the intention behind it. So you nod and swing your joined hands, closing your eyes and breathing in the fresh air. The tranquility of the moment washes over you. Waves crash against the shore, seagulls cry out as they soar in the sky, and Dino breathes quietly beside you...

Then he yelps, and the tranquility is gone.

“Dino?” You turn to him, alarmed when you spot tears gathering in his eyes. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“My toe!” he cries out, confusing you further.

When you look down, though, everything becomes clear.

Since you’re at the beach, both of you had long taken off your sandals to walk barefoot on the warm sand. Which left Dino’s feet vulnerable to pests, like the crab that has the skin of his big toe pinched between its claws.

“Oh!” you say, at a loss for words. The times you’ve frequented the beach, you’ve never had to deal with something like this before. “Uh! Why don’t you, um. Shake it off?” That should get rid of the crab, surely?

“R-Right!” He lifts his foot and shakes his leg, looking completely ridiculous. Worse, the crab just dangles from his toe, refusing to let go. He cries out again. “Ack! Now it hurts even _more_!”

You look around, perplexed, then realize Dino’s screams must have alerted his men. They might have a better idea of what to do. You glance over your shoulder.

Only to find them staring in your direction, not moving a muscle to help their boss, in hysterics. One of them even appears to be holding his phone up, _recording_.

...Okay, you should’ve expected that. And, seeing as your boyfriend isn’t in any real danger, it _is_ kind of funny. You thought situations like this only happened in comedies. The corners of your mouth twitch, but you resist the urge to smile.

Unfortunately, Dino notices. “Hey! Don’t _laugh_. I’m in pain over here!”

“I’m not laughing!”

“But you want to! I can tell!”

“Don’t you have bigger things to worry about right now?”

“Yeah! And you’re not helping!” Dino looks down at his foot, grimacing. Then his eyes widen. “Oh, no. _No_.”

You follow his gaze. To your horror, you see, scuttling across the sand, a crab inching its way towards the two of you. But the crab is still hanging off Dino’s foot. Which means there is more than one.

You scan the ground, your thought proven correct. An army of crabs are advancing on you, their pincers held aloft and practically gleaming in the sunlight. You stumble backwards. Thankfully, they don’t follow after you. It’s as if they don’t even notice you’re there.

Because they’re too busy following _Dino_.

“What the...” He hops away once, then twice, but they only hurry to close the distance. “Where did all of these crabs come from? I didn’t even do anything to them!”

Whatever the reason, the crabs are gaining on him. One swipes at him with a pincer, but he manages to hop away before it succeeds in the attempt.

“Guys!” Dino calls out. To his men, you realize after a beat. “A little assistance, here?!”

Instead of springing into action, his subordinates cup their hands over their mouths and shout encouragements. Behind them, Romario reclines on a folding chair, sunglasses perched on his nose and completely at peace.

“You got this, boss!”

“We believe in you!”

“Keep at it! You’re almost safe!”

“Man, the others are gonna love this...”

Still hopping away, Dino yells over his shoulder, “At least throw me my whip, you assholes!”

As you watch, in disbelief at what you’re seeing, he hobbles down the beach, followed closely by the crustaceans. He’s still flailing his foot, hoping to dislodge the crab on his toe, to no avail.

You stare. Then you bend over in laughter, clutching at your stomach.

This isn’t what you were expecting when Dino proposed a romantic getaway to his (one of several) private island. But it worked. Stress is the _last_ thing on your mind right now.

And it’s all thanks to your loving boyfriend. In a way.


End file.
